Spiked Spike
by Atuliel
Summary: AU. Set in Season 4. Willow, Buffy, and Giles go to Spike for information, but he's so wasted he's useless. Willow decides to take care of the vampire - and later can't decide whether she regrets it or not.


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All belongs to _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ creators and writers.

* * *

"Spike?" Buffy snapped. "What do you know about this KrackaJack demon thing?"

Giles snorted at her mispronunciation, but went back to stoic silence when Willow glanced at him. The vampire, in the meantime, grinned and lurched forward.

"I really like…your hair when it's like that," he slurred. "It's all…shiny and bee-yoo-tiful. I really, I…don't, don't stare like that, you uh…." Then he burst into laughter and shook his head rapidly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he gasped, still chuckling.

"Uh, Buffy…could I have a minute with him?" Willow asked, tugging on her friend's shirt.

The Slayer glanced at her Watcher and they exchanged a shrug. Buffy offered the stake to her best friend and murmured for her to be careful, and that they'd be just outside if she needed anything. Willow nodded and smiled, but as soon as they were gone she set down the stake and shoved Spike into an upright position from where he was hunched over, hysterical with laughter.

"You're drunk," she said sternly.

"You're foxy," he drawled in reply.

Willow blinked. "You're _really_ drunk."

The vampire chuckled and promptly hiccupped. "Yep!"

"Blood or alcohol?" the witch inquired, one hand on her hip and the other stabilizing him against the wall.

Spike furrowed his brow at her, which just made him look even more ridiculous in this drunken state.

"I got the chip, remember? I'm not sucking on anything!" he exclaimed, rather loudly.

She winced. "What did you do, then?"

"Well, there was this really nice bartender," he began, half-grinning. "And he gave me a few free ones, so I figured, 'What the hell? Why not?' And then I paid for a few more. And—"

"Okay, I get the picture," Willow cut him off, rolling her eyes. "At least it's liquor. I can actually help you with that."

"Help me?" he barked, confused.

"Yeah, you're gonna have a major hangover in the morning," she explained, ducking under his arm and pulling up him from the wall. "Vampire or not."

She groaned, trying to balance his weight and wobbling legs as she led him to the coffin. She managed to get him to sit down and glowered up at him sternly when he slid his hand up her thigh. Spike grinned down at her.

"Hey, I'm drunk," he said defensively.

Willow scowled and shook her head. "Stay there," she ordered, striding off to grab the stake.

His eyes widened until he saw where she was headed.

The witch ducked out of the crypt where Giles and Buffy were waiting patiently. Well…they had their tongues in each other's mouths, so she supposed that was patience. She flushed and cleared her throat. They came up for air and Giles stared at her, wide-eyed. Buffy, however, simply kept her arms wrapped around him and watched her best friend expectantly, as though that were the only place in the world she'd like to be: right there in Giles' arms.

"He's drunk," Willow said quickly, frowning.

Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes. "No wonder."

"Yeah. I don't think you're going to get anything out of him today," the witch remarked.

"Probably not," she replied, sliding back onto her heels and taking Giles' hand. "Well, let's get with the researching."

"Good idea," Giles replied. "No sense in, uh, wasting anymore time here."

They started off, but Willow hesitated and cleared her throat.

"Uh, guys?"

The Slayer stopped and her Watcher wrapped his arms around her from behind. She leaned into him and waited for the witch to continue.

"I think I'm, uh, gonna stay here," Willow announced, fidgeting with her jacket sleeves.

"What?"

"I'm gonna stay and get him sobered up," she reiterated, more certainly this time.

"It's Christmas Eve, and you're gonna stay in a crypt with drunk Spike to sober him up?" Buffy asked, aghast.

Willow considered. "It only sounds crazy when you say it like _that_."

Buffy smirked. "It sounds crazy anyway. Come on, Will, we'll all go to Giles', and call Xander and Anya and watch them make jokes and make out, and watch old movies and eat so much chocolate we think we're gonna barf, and be miserable with the stomach aches. It'll be great."

The witch glanced back toward the crypt.

"Will, he'll be fine. He's a loony vamp with a chip in his head. He's not gonna go off biting people. Well…at least not without a bad headache."

"He'll have a bad headache anyway in the morning," Willow retorted.

"Look, I know you're still sad about Oz, but I don't think moping alone in a crypt with an evil vampire is gonna make you feel any better," Buffy said haltingly. "Please just come with us?" She broke away from Giles and gripped Willow's forearm.

"Don't give me the pout-y face, you know I can't withstand it!" the witch exclaimed, guarding her eyes with her other arm.

"Pleeeeaaaaase?" Buffy whined. "If you don't come, then it'll just be me, Giles, Xander, and Anya, and that's just bad, because all we'll do is make out. Which would just be awkward."

"Why don't you skip the part about calling Xander and just go to Giles'?" Willow suggested, waggling her eyebrows in Giles' direction. "You know, alone?"

Giles cleared his throat, flushing.

Buffy bit her lower lip, thoughtfully. "Okay."

Willow grinned triumphantly and turned to go, but the Slayer held her fast.

"But you _be careful_. And keep the stake on you. And stay in the crypt. A—"

"Buffy. I'm gonna be fine."

Buffy frowned, dissatisfied. "Fine. Have a good night."

"You, too," Willow replied cheerfully.

This time, she watched them go to make sure Buffy wasn't going to come back and carry her back to the dorm. Or, worse, baby-sit her while she took care of Spike.

Heaving a sigh, she turned on her heel and went back into the crypt, where Spike was now doing his ABC's in a very mixed up order whilst inserting lyrics from "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall." Willow snorted and shook her head.

"All right, Goofy," she said as she approached him.

He hiccupped. "Okay, Honey-Child."

"Let's get you cleaned up," Willow replied, ignoring the comment.

He laughed heartily at this, for some unknown reason. She took off his trench coat, which was covered in dirt and slime, and shook her head in distaste. She gingerly tossed it aside and looked up into wide eyes.

"It's really, really dirty, Spike," she explained. "As in, you needed to wash that 126 years ago."

Spike shrugged and hiccupped again, then started singing "Let's Get It On." Willow blushed and pretended she didn't hear him, as she went about scrubbing dirt off his neck, hands, and face.

"What did you _do_ to yourself?" she wondered aloud.

"I told you: I got drunk," he drawled. "_Carry on my wayward son, there'll be something when ya eat the…_uh…what rhymes with son?"

"No, I mean, how did you get this dirty?" Willow demanded.

"That doesn't rhyme!" he complained, scowling.

"Spike, how did you get dirty?" she inquired sternly.

"Well, I know some Slugger Demon got pissed at me for…trying to steal his pretzels," he explained, looking up as he thought about it. "The rest…is a blur. _If you see a painted sign at the side of the road, that says 'fifteen miles to the: Love Shaaaaack.'_"

"If you sing that song, I'm going to stake you now," she informed him calmly, scrubbing at his elbow.

He blinked at her. "When'd you get so bitchy, Red?"

Willow glowered up at him briefly. "I just really hate that song."

"I think it's great! Top-notch! Better than a big ol' barrel o'—"

"Please don't say—"

"Blood!"

She put her hand to her mouth and nearly hurled.

"But not really. Does get kind of annoying, doesn't it? Great. Now it's stuck. Nicely done, chippy," he scolded himself. "Hey, whatsa matter with you?"

She held up a finger and slowly shook her head of the image. When Willow felt she would no longer be sick, she returned to her task.

"Sheesh, think that four yearsa slayin' demons with Blondie would get ya used to that stuff," he observed, rolling his shoulders.

"It's so gross," she replied, wrinkling her nose.

"Well, I'll put a limit on it for ya," Spike returned, moving on to singing numbers from "The Sound of Music."

She blinked, looking up at him. "Uh…thank you."

He grinned and waggled his eyebrows, continuing to sing. Willow looked down again, flaking off chunks of dirt from his shirt.

"I've always been kind of partial to 'The Music Man,'" she commented quietly.

"Really? Never met anyone who was," Spike replied, watching her intently.

"I just liked Marian. She was so funny, you know?" she returned, still staring down at his shirt sleeve. "First she hated him, and then suddenly she was madly in love. It made me laugh." She shrugged.

"Hmmm."

She looked up at him at last, and he had on a mischievous grin.

"What?"

"_Maaarian. Madame libraaarian._"

Willow winced and tried to keep working, but he leapt uneasily off the coffin and fell to his knees. Pretending he meant to do that, he continued to sing up at her.

"_What can I do, my dear, to catch your ear?_

_I love you, madly, madly_

_Madame librarian, Marian_."

Catching on, the witch grinned and started laughing as he got to his feet again and went to kiss her. Faking annoyance, she whirled away and picked up his trench coat, scrubbing some dirt off of it.

"_What can I do, my dear, to make it clear?_

_I need you, badly, badly_

_Madame librarian, Marian!_

_If I stumbled and I, uh…._"

"Busted your whatchamacallit?" she prompted, grinning.

"_I could lie on your floor unnoticed_

_Till my body had turned to caaaaarrion._

_Madame libraaaarian._"

Willow started to walk away again, but he bounced unsteadily before her and took her in his arms.

"_Now in the moonlight,_

_A man could sing it_

_In the moonlight_."

He went to kiss her, caressing her cheek, but she pulled away and went back to the coffin, setting down the trench coat to scrub more ferociously at it.

"_And a fellow would know—_"

"Okay, Spike, I need—"

The vampire stopped short in the doorway, staring at the two of them. Spike was leaning over Willow, standing right behind her, as she attempted to get off a very green, very smelly something. Spike grinned at the vampire, drunk and therefore not in the least disturbed by the intrusion.

The vampire sniffed and started chuckling nervously. "Uh…wh-what's goin' on, Spike? You play with your food now? Or just serenade it?"

"Hey, Derk," Spike returned, staying right where he was.

Willow flushed, sinking a little, trying to hide behind the coffin.

"What do ya need?" he asked cheerfully.

"Well…I was gonna ask for…some money but…." He chuckled again. "What the hell is going on here?"

"I'm busy," Spike replied. "Make it quick."

"Fine. Money."

"I can't get it for you," he said firmly.

"Why not?"

Spike glowered. "Because. I'm. Busy."

"Fine, man. I'm outta here."

The vampire put his hands palms up and strutted out. In the silence he left, Willow shifted uncomfortably and paused in her scrubbing. Spike cleared his throat and grinned.

"_And a fellow would know that his darling_

_Had heard every word of his song_

_With the moonlight_

_Helping along_."

Willow laughed and moved out from in front of him, taking the trench coat to the window, where there'd be more light. And, of course, Spike followed. He grabbed her again, tossing the trench coat aside. She gasped in surprise as he held her in his arms, moving to grab her hand and hook his arm around her waist. He began guiding her in a dance, still grinning and singing along.

"_But when I try in here_

_To tell you, dear_

_I love you, madly, madly_

_Madame librarian, Marian!_"

And just when she expected him to release her, he wrapped his arms fully around her and planted a long kiss on her lips.

When he finally pulled back, he grinned at her and waggled his eyebrows. She was left breathless and in shock.

"Uh, that was…what was that?" Willow asked uncertainly.

"I thought maybe you'd recognize that as a kiss," Spike returned. "But I guess not."

"Okay…. Will you let me go now?" She peered at him helplessly.

"Sure."

He hopped back up onto the coffin, waiting for her to continue scrubbing him down. She stood still for a moment, still reeling from the kiss, before picking up the trench coat and returning to him. She said absolutely nothing, for fear of talking about The Incident.

* * *

A few hours later, Spike had passed out on the coffin and Willow was ready to head out for soap and a bucket of hot water. She hesitated at the door and left a note in the dirt on the floor about where she was going. As an afterthought, she grabbed the trench coat—she was sick of dealing with it. The dry cleaners could handle it.

Willow stopped at the dry cleaners first and the clerk jokingly told her it would take a few months. She glowered at him and he shut up, because apparently she looked pretty cranky with her hair all messed up, bags under her eyes, dirt on her face, and, to top it all off, confusion written all over her face.

The next stop was the dorm. Buffy wasn't home yet, so she didn't have to deal with the questioning and the telling about The Incident. She started up a pot of coffee while she was there. They weren't really into coffee drinking, but since they'd been having problems with boys, i.e. Oz and Parker, they had decided to have some available for late night talks.

Willow gathered some soap, a sponge, a bucket of water, and dug through her drawers until she found some clothes she'd kept for when Oz stayed over. She intended on washing the clothes Spike had on—whether he liked it or not. Then again, he'd probably still be out when she got back.

By the time she was finished pulling herself together, she decided she'd need a cart of some sort. So she pulled a crate out of her closet and put everything but the bucket of water in it, then she headed back to Spike's crypt, still avoiding thoughts about The Incident and, also, Oz.

When she finally entered the crypt, she found Spike still asleep, but now on the floor. Willow hastily tossed her things down and turned him over, eyes wide.

"Spike! Are you okay?" she asked anxiously.

He groaned and his eyes fluttered. "Red?"

She nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Are you all right?"

Spike sat up slowly, rubbing his forehead. "Yeah, I guess."

Willow put her hand to his shoulder, concerned. "Are you sure?"

"Yep. Just…kind of in a weird place right now. Like…I'm still a little drunk. But now I have a headache." He paused, thoughtfully. "It's different."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Come on. Let's get you up."

She stood and helped him up and onto the coffin again. She got out the pot of coffee and a mug and poured him some.

"I didn't know how you liked your coffee, so I just brought sugar and cream," she said uncertainly.

He smiled, and it sent an unexpected flutter through her stomach. "Thanks."

Spike busied himself with filling the mug with sugar and cream while she looked through her crate. After he'd taken a few sips, she turned around with Oz's clothes in hand, sorting through them.

"Take off your clothes," she ordered, absently.

Spike hopped off the coffin and started undoing the buttons on his shirt obediently. She turned beet red when she realized what she'd said and what it sounded like.

"Uh, I mean…go on the other side of the coffin and h-here's a change of clothes," Willow stuttered, closing her eyes and holding out the change. "I didn't mean, uh—"

"It's all right," he cut her off, taking the clothes out of her hand and walking around the coffin to change.

When she felt it was safe to open her eyes again, she picked up the soap, the bucket, and sponge and set it on top of the coffin.

"And, uh, wash up, before you change completely? And I'll give you a towel," Willow said slowly, measuring her words carefully now.

He nodded, not looking at her. While he was scrubbing himself down, she sipped some of the coffee, assuming she was just too tired to have known what she was saying. He made her jump when he tapped her.

"Towel?"

"Oh, right."

She leapt forward and grabbed the fluffy blue towel, handing it over to him. Their eyes locked for a moment before she blushed and looked down. When he was done changing, he came around, sniffing the shirt he had on busily.

She turned away and gathered the clothes he'd left on the floor for washing. She started scrubbing, not looking at him.

"Oz's?" he asked softly.

Willow simply nodded.

"I'm surprised you kept them," Spike commented, picking up the mug and taking a sip, "after what the bastard did to you."

She glanced at him, brow furrowed. "He didn't do any—"

"He slept with another girl, didn't he? And then he ditched you, rather than making it better?" he interrupted, looking pretty angry.

Willow didn't reply.

"Not that I'm any better than him," Spike continued, sniffing. "But at least I've got an excuse. I'm evil." He took another drink.

"There were extenuating circumstances," she murmured, still scrubbing out his shirt.

"Oh, right. I forgot," he said sarcastically. "He had to protect the people from Wolf-Girl so he screwed her. Then he could've stayed to work out your problems, but instead he ran away like a sissy boy, trying to fix his little disease. I'm sorry, but love goes deeper than that. If you really, truly love someone, you're not just gonna drop 'em because you have a problem."

Willow didn't look at him, though she knew he was gazing at her intensely. She concentrated hard on the pair of jeans she was working on instead. She felt more than saw him come up next to her and set down his mug. He took her by the shoulders and turned her toward him slowly. She stared at the middle of his chest—hard.

Before she knew what was happening, though, Spike bent down and captured her lips again. This kiss was gentler—more soothing, than anything. She felt her sense of reality abandoning her and her knees growing weaker. He held her up, and this time, when he drew away, she followed his lips until her neck couldn't stretch any farther.

She blinked open her eyes and stared up at him as he let go of her arms. He had a small, almost mischievous smile on his face when he picked up his mug and drank a little from it again.

"Why do you keep doing that to me?" Willow demanded, once she'd remembered where she was.

Spike glanced at her sideways. "Because I wanted to."

She stared at him, confused. "What?"

"You heard me," he replied smoothly, walking back around the coffin with his coffee and sprawling on the window ledge gracefully.

It was good to see that he'd gotten his balance back, but she was too distracted to notice.

"That doesn't make any sense, Spike," she informed him. "You wanted to kiss me? Why would you want to kiss me?"

"You leave the soap sitting on those jeans it's gonna turn into something funky," he told her, smirking.

"Tell me," she said firmly, glowering at him.

"I don't know what it would be," he evaded. "I just know it'll be weird."

"Gah!"

She threw up her hands and went back to scrubbing. Spike grinned at her while she kept glancing at him throughout her cleaning. It was driving her insane and he knew it. Willow glared at him and scrubbed even harder. When she was finished, she laid out all his clothes to dry and put everything else away.

Willow looked for a place to sit and he patted his knee, so she glowered defiantly at him and plopped down on the floor, folding her arms. He chuckled and took another drink.

"This'd be good if it were beer," he commented.

"I think you've had enough alcohol for one night," she snipped.

He smirked. "Maybe you're right."

"No. Not maybe. I am _definitely_ right."

Spike chuckled again and rolled his neck. "Thanks."

She glanced at him. "For what?"

"Takin' care of me."

Willow shrugged. "Well, sure, I mean, I couldn't just leave you here to rot. Which is practically what you were doing. You really should take better care of yourself, you know? I mean, there were pieces of dirt that looked like they'd been smothered in dirt on your clothes."

She realized a moment later that he was smiling brightly at her and she blushed. "What?"

"Oh, nothin'," he replied, though there was very obviously something.

When the silence got to be too much for her, she stood and brushed off.

"I need to get home," Willow explained. "You can keep the clothes. Um, your trench coat is at the dry cleaners. You can pick it up tomorrow night."

"Thanks."

"Yeah. Well, goodbye."

She picked up her things and walked out, hurrying and not looking back.

* * *

It had been almost two weeks since Willow had seen Spike and The Incidents had occurred. After Buffy arrived home the next morning, she had grilled Willow on every single detail of the previous night before they went to Giles' to have a Scoobies Christmas. Luckily, she'd avoided mentioning anything about the kisses, but she could tell Buffy suspected something more had happened than what she was telling her. Thus, Willow had barely seen Buffy those two weeks, either—although avoiding someone she lived with was harder than she thought.

It wasn't bothering her that she hadn't seen Buffy much, since she knew why that was happening. What bothered her was that she hadn't seen Spike. It was like he had disappeared off the planet, with no explanation. She had tried mentioning it to Buffy, Giles, and Xander, but they'd all shrugged it off. Obviously, they had other things on their mind than an evil vampire going missing.

"Willow, will you _please_ sit down and relax?" Buffy asked for the fiftieth time.

Willow dropped onto her bed for the fiftieth time.

"Thank you," Buffy repeated.

She went back to studying again, tapping her pencil on the pad of paper. Willow's knee started bouncing as she sat in the silent room. Buffy's pencil tapped away and the clock ticked, both creating separate rhythms that only made Willow feel more anxious. She shifted on the bed and huffed when Buffy turned the page. Unable to take the stillness any longer, Willow shot up off the bed again and started pacing again. Buffy sighed.

"If you don't stop that, we'll be sitting in the lounge," she commented dryly. When Willow winced and sat again, Buffy set aside her things and turned to face her, softening. "You want to tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Willow protested, squeaking.

Buffy just gave her a look.

"It's just…we haven't seen Spike on patrol," she admitted softly, avoiding her friend's eyes.

She blinked. "…And?"

"Well, I mean, what if the Initiative has him again?" Willow asked, alarmed. "What if they're torturing him? What if they—?" She froze when she noticed the odd stare Buffy was giving her. "What if they get him to talk about us? I mean, you said Professor Walsh wasn't very happy about Riley's attachment to you and finding out about your abilities. What if they found out we were taking care of him and they're pumping him for information? Or what if he's found a way to get his chip out and he's hurting people?" Her eyes darted back and forth across the room, betraying her.

"Will, I don't think Spike hurting people or giving information is what you're so nervous about," Buffy said bluntly. "You're obviously worried about _his_ well-being."

"I—"

Buffy held up a hand to deflect her protests. "Don't even try to deny it. You've been acting like there's a demon on your tail ever since that day you took care of him."

"That's just because…" Willow gestured aimlessly as she searched for a reason, "I…don't like him very much."

Buffy smirked. "Or do you? Come on, Will, put the pieces together. You decided to take care of a _vampire_ on Christmas Eve rather than spend it with your friends, and now you're worried sick that he's been abducted or something. You clearly have more than friendly feelings for him."

Willow stuck her lower lip out. "I do _not_."

This only encouraged a grin on the Slayer's face.

"I don't!" she protested futilely.

The grin grew wider and Willow huffed, folding her arms.

"Willow," Buffy said so softly Willow hardly noticed.

She hesitantly met her gaze and, instead of the mocking grin, found the warm, concerned gaze she was used to.

"All right, fine!" Willow blurted, jumping up and pacing the room. "I like Spike. But nothing can happen."

"Why not?" Buffy prodded gently.

"Because!" She looked at Buffy, who waited expectantly. Her voice quieted when she continued, "Because…well, for one, you. He's been trying to kill you since day one. And then there's Xander. And the fact that Spike? He's actually evil, and if the chip weren't inhibiting him, he would still be trying to murder you. And probably me."

Buffy sighed. "True. _But_ the chip _is_ stopping him, and that's what counts. So what you have to ask yourself is: does it bother you enough that he'd be a killing machine without that chip that you won't take a chance on him?"

Willow paused. "Wait. Wh-why are you okay with this?"

Buffy chuckled, standing. "And I'd be what if I criticized you for wanting to be with a vampire? The word 'hypocrite' kind of rings a bell here." She paused thoughtfully. "Or 'heinous bitch.' I'm not sure which."

"That was different! Angel had a soul!" Willow protested.

She chuckled again. "You know…I've been using that same excuse for years. But is it really any different than Spike having a chip? Without his soul…Angel was back to being a blood-sucking fiend. It didn't matter how much he'd loved me with that soul. Without it he was still a killer."

"It _is_ different," she insisted. "Angel was able to be a good person and…help and stuff when he was ensouled. He didn't still _want_ to kill people."

"Yes, he did," Buffy said stiffly, scowling. "He even told me. The urge was still there, but the only thing that held him back was the guilt. His conscience wouldn't let him do it. And, in this case, the pain won't let Spike. And maybe…maybe Spike can change." She sounded so doubtful Willow laughed. "Okay, look, you know that I am definitely _not_ Spike's biggest fan. But…you know, if he can love you, why couldn't he be a better guy?"

Willow sighed. "I don't think 'love' for me will get him to change." She sat on her bed again. "Look at Oz. It didn't make him very ambitious to stop the animal side of him."

Buffy considered that for a moment before taking a seat next to her friend. "But Spike isn't Oz," she countered. "I mean, I don't know if his love for Drusilla is any kind of example, but look what he did for her. He traveled halfway around the world trying to find a cure for her. He made a deal with _me_ to save her."

Willow shot her a dubious look. "I'm not Drusilla."

Buffy sighed. "Look, Will, all I can say is that if I were in your shoes…I'd give him a shot. But I can't decide that for you. In the end, it has to be you who chooses to be with him. And, honestly, if you're this uncertain about him, then maybe you don't want him that badly."

Willow widened her eyes, startled and a bit stung. Buffy simply shrugged and returned to her desk, flipping her book back open.

"Well…maybe…I just need to think it over, you know," Willow said defensively. "Weigh the pros and cons."

Buffy nodded once. "Whatever you say." When she saw the immediate pout on her best friend's face, she sighed and relented. "It's just…I wasted a _lot_ of time—_months_—that I could've spent with Giles that way," she explained, shaking her head.

"You did?" Willow asked, aghast.

Buffy shifted to face her again. "Well, yeah. I wasn't sure I wanted to be with him—for several reasons. First of all, I was worried about other people's reactions. You know, my mom, you guys. And I was also concerned about the trust issues that grew between us when Jenny died and when he gave me the Cruciamentum. And especially when he slept with Olivia and I slept with Parker. I wasn't willing to put my feelings for him first, to take a chance on what I really wanted.

"But then, you know, after spending time with him and wasting so much time, I just couldn't ignore it anymore. So I told him I wanted to be with him and, you know, now here we are. And my only regret is that I wasted those months and months that I could've been happy with him."

"I didn't know that," Willow said softly, stunned. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Will, you were so broken up over Oz…I just didn't want to bother you with my problems," she explained, sighing. "I didn't want to upset you more."

"Oh. Well…I _guess_ I can give you a free pass on this one," Willow teased, smiling.

"Oh, I get to pass go, then?" Buffy retorted, winking.

"This time." Her smile slowly faded and she stood. "I'm gonna go for a walk."

"Okay, I'll see you later. Take a stake with you."

"Buffy, it's 5 in the afternoon," Willow reminded her, chuckling.

"And it'll be dark before you know it," she countered sternly. "Take a stake."

Willow exhaled, giving in. "Yes, ma'am."

She slipped out the door before Buffy could reply, stuffing the stake deep in her pocket. She was just going to the park and back, but she supposed Buffy was right—she could very well lose track of the time and end up walking through the dark.

Willow's thoughts trailed back to what Buffy had told her. She had wasted _months_ that she could've been happy, paralyzed with fear and not wanting to take the risk. And she'd ended up perfectly happy with her Watcher. _But that was different_, a part of her contradicted. Giles was human, for one. And although he'd been a magic junkie, the one person he'd killed had been unintentionally. Spike was an evil vampire who killed people for fun.

And, as much as she hated to admit it, that was part of the draw. Not the killing people, but the fact that Spike was so dangerous. It was thrilling, in a way; although, that wasn't the whole reason she liked him. He was straightforward, and he had a way of exciting her that neither Xander nor Oz had possessed. He also had seemed to have this deep understanding of exactly what she needed to hear and saying it, without hesitation, in that smooth voice of his.

However, as exciting as his dangerous side was, it was also frightening. He had supernatural strength and could hurt her, even unintentionally. Then again, Buffy had supernatural strength, too. And other than the occasional bruise, which she was pretty sure Giles merely exaggerated just to get Buffy to fuss over him, she'd never heard Giles complain about injuries.

There was another thing that bothered her though. Spike couldn't even put a toe out in the sun without getting it completely burned off. Then again, Buffy was mainly a creature of the night—spending most of her days in class or napping, and her nights out in cemeteries. Yet she still managed to find time to spend with Giles, in spite of her late night activities. So Spike could certainly manage to find time for her, and they could just stay indoors during the day.

But Spike had still been a killer, previous to the chip. He continually tried to murder her and her friends, and that could turn up the awkward dial a bit between her and her friends, if she chose to be with him. Giles' killing and bullying days were far over—besides, it had just been a rebellious stint. Not a lifelong career choice. Although…there was a brief time when Giles had returned to his Ripper days, when the adults had been infected with magic candy. And no one ever mentioned it other than to make a passing joke. So maybe it wouldn't be too bad with Spike.

Besides, it might be nice to have a boyfriend again. She wouldn't have to run to Buffy with every problem she had. When her friends were busy, she wouldn't have to fill the nights with solitary Scrabble and reality TV shows. It would be nice to have a person to do things with—of course, the options were kind of limited with a vampire, but still…. And…she missed sex a little.

Thinking of Spike and sex sent a chill down her spine and spread goose bumps over her skin. It was a rather exciting concept: sex with Spike. She wondered what he looked like naked….

Shaking her head rapidly, Willow realized that the sun was indeed going down and abruptly turned on her heel to head home. She had settled the question in her mind, though, which was what she'd set out to do. She smiled and put a little bounce in her step. The next time she saw Spike, she was going to tell him how she felt.

* * *

Buffy staked the vampire and watched it turn into dust, brushing off her hands. It had been three nights since her little chat with Willow, after which the witch had taken on a new attitude. There was a determined spark in her eyes and a skip in her step. She insisted on coming patrolling with her nearly every night—although this night Buffy had managed to convince her to stay home and get some rest. There still hadn't been any sign of Spike, but that didn't dampen Willow's spirits. Somehow, she was holding onto hope.

Buffy had spent the last couple days preparing Xander and Giles for the idea. Neither of them were taking kindly to it, but she figured it was the least she could do for Willow before the two actually got together. So far, the only progress she had actually made was with Giles, who agreed reluctantly that it was Willow's life and that they couldn't make her decisions for her. Xander had replied to that with, "We can if she's crazy."

With Xander, she'd only been able to talk him out of confronting Willow about it, insisting that if Willow were making a mistake that she would find out on her own. If she never took a chance on a relationship with Spike, she would spend the rest of her life wondering. When that didn't work, Buffy asked if Xander wanted to see Willow end up ruining a perfectly good relationship down the road by starting something with Spike in the hopes of fulfilling an old fantasy. He shut up after that.

Buffy was pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of someone creeping around the next mausoleum. She slowed her steps and edged around the corner, stake at the ready. But when she lunged around it, the person shouted and stumbled backward, glaring at her. When they both regained their bearings, Buffy was stunned to see Spike standing there, shooting her an exasperated glare.

"Oh, great, it's _you_," he grumbled, brushing off his surprisingly clean trench coat.

She lowered her stake, shaking her head. "Hello to you, too, Spike. Where have you been?"

"Aw, did you miss me?" Spike taunted, sneering.

"Only by this much," she replied, holding up her hands to demonstrate how far her stake had been from hitting him.

"Funny, Slayer," he retorted, rolling his eyes. "You manage to find a sense of humor when you pulled that pole out of your backside?"

"You're awfully grouchy tonight," Buffy observed, eyes narrowing. "Is the sober life not treating you well?"

"For your information, I _am_ drunk," he said proudly.

"And I was suffering under the false hope that you actually wanted to make a good impression," she replied, shaking her head.

"On you?" He snorted. "Not likely."

"Not on me. On Willow."

She flashed him a haughty smile and brushed past him. As expected, he quickly jogged to catch up with her.

"Why would I want to make a good impression on her?" Spike demanded, matching her pace.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you're desperately in love with her?" Buffy said dryly, glancing around the cemetery idly.

"Me? In love with Red?" He laughed.

"Um, earth to Spike! You ask about her every time she doesn't come patrolling with me," she replied, rolling her eyes.

"I do—"

"_And_ you're not really drunk. You're just mad because you think she doesn't feel the same way about you as you do about her," she continued, ignoring him. "Which is why you've been avoiding her for the past two weeks. Which, by the way, is a completely juvenile move for someone who's been walking around dead for the past hundred years."

"Oh, well…you just…you know…you're—"

Buffy halted and folded her arms, tapping her foot. "I what?"

"You-you're just…" he sputtered.

"Are you going to get this out in the next ten minutes?" she inquired, bored.

"Gah! _You_ are just…so…!"

"Amazing? I know. It's stunning how I can read an evil vampire so easily, isn't it?" she continued for him, turning to keep walking. "But it's even more stunning how I can know exactly what Willow is thinking about you and just manage not to spill a word of it to you."

"What? You know what Willow thinks? Wh-what'd she say?" he shouted, rushing to catch up with her and grabbing her shoulders. When she glanced at his hands, he released her and brushed his hands off. "I mean…not that I care."

"Oh, good. Then you won't mind if I don't tell you," Buffy replied, grinning.

For the second time that night, Spike was struck speechless. He glared at her and Buffy smirked, slipping past him again.

"I just have one question for you," she said casually. "How is it that a vampire who normally goes after what he wants with all the gusto he can muster suddenly came to a full halt in his advances and decided to scurry back into his crypt like a coward?"

Spike ground his teeth together, not answering. Buffy glanced back at him, then smirked and shrugged.

"Have a good night, Spike," she called back to him, walking home feeling thoroughly satisfied with her night's patrol now that she'd pissed Spike off.

* * *

"So, I'm pretty happy about that," Buffy finished, smirking at a laughing Giles.

She had decided to drop by to visit and tell him about the incredibly enjoyable experience she'd had making Spike mad. He found it highly amusing that she liked to make the vampire so mad, but he wondered how that relationship would work when Willow and Spike had a relationship. After all, he was sure Willow wouldn't be happy with Buffy riling her boyfriend up at every opportunity. Buffy saw his sudden frown and leaned forward to catch his eyes.

"What is it?" she prompted, curling her arm around his shoulders.

He shifted unhappily. "I dunno…. I guess I'm still not quite comfortable with the whole Willow and…_Spike_…thing."

"None of us are," she assured him, fingers idly brushing at the hairs at the base of his neck. "But it's Willow's choice."

"I know," he agreed. "It's just, well…how is that going to affect the rest of us? I know it sounds incredibly selfish, but I'd rather if things didn't change. I want Willow to be happy, but not at the expense of the rest of us—most especially not at your expense. You've had enough unhappiness."

She smiled fondly at him. "That's so sweet…. But, as much of an adjustment as it's going to be, it'll be worth it if I can see Willow smile again. I mean, _really_ smile. She's been unhappy ever since Oz left, you know. Besides, out of all of us, it's _you_ who has had the most unhappiness."

Giles shrugged awkwardly and picked up her teacup, escaping to the kitchen. Buffy followed complacently, well aware that this was his way of handling conversations that made him uncomfortable. He would keep talking and dealing with it, but he had to be doing something with his hands. She privately thought that was the real reason he bothered making tea—the familiar motions.

"I'm just not sure if either of you understand just how _much_ of an adjustment this is going to be," he continued. "Spike has made no secret of the fact that he'd love to see us all dead. Nor have you made any secret of the fact that seeing him as a little pile of dust would make your day."

She nodded. "Well, yeah, but Spike and I are enemies. Vampire and Slayer, destiny and all that. This isn't about us, though. This is about Spike and Willow."

He put the kettle on and turned to face her, wiping his hands on a dishrag. He was smiling patiently.

"Yes, I understand that—but Willow and Spike, being _together_…. The both of you are going to have to learn to _deny_ your destinies—and probably renounce your oaths to kill each other. It would likely break Willow's heart to have the two of you fighting. Are you going to be able to do that?"

Buffy sighed, hopping up on the counter. "I'm going to have to."

She looked a little morose about this.

He sighed, a little sad himself. "I'm going to have to learn to live with it as well. As a Watcher, I should be cleaning my crossbow right now. Instead, I find myself wondering if he has any redeeming qualities so I can tell Willow I'll be all right with it."

Buffy nodded, looking thoughtful. "Well, he does have at least _one_ redeeming quality," she said after a moment.

"And that is?" he asked dubiously.

She smiled weakly. "He really does love Willow. And if it's as much as I think it is, he would do anything to make sure she doesn't get hurt—ever. Which is one thing that he and I will be able to agree on."

Giles' smile was much brighter. "That's very true! And that means you'll have one less of us to worry about when the next monster comes along. It'll be like you hired Willow her own personal bodyguard."

She mock-groaned. "Don't let him hear you say that, or we really _will_ have to pay him."

He laughed. "Also true." He paused, sobering. "Oh, dear. If Willow thinks I'll take to storing blood in my refrigerator again, she's got another thing coming. That was not exactly one of the highlights of my life—and I'm quite certain it put me off food for several months."

Buffy laughed and jumped off the counter, patting his shoulder. "Don't worry—I think Willow knows there's only so much we can do to accommodate her new situation."

"I sincerely hope so," Giles said heartily.

And since they had come to an agreement on the subject, he assumed it was closed. With that out of the way, all that was left was to kiss Buffy, which he did with pleasure.

* * *

Willow had had enough of waiting for Spike to show up again. She was going to his crypt and she would sit him down and tell him how she felt. Fear immediately gripped her after the initial determination, but she always batted it away. If she didn't do it soon, she never would. So she marched straight up to his crypt door and, after bracing herself against the fear, pounded on his door.

"Don't you ever sleep, Slayer?" she heard Spike call from inside.

"Actually, she's sleeping right now," she called back anxiously. "I-it's actually me, Willow."

The answer was silence. She almost thought he wasn't going to answer, but after a few moments, the door slowly creaked open and Spike stood there, staring at her in shock.

"Hi," she said, breathlessly.

"Hi," he replied, blinking as though to clear his vision.

"C-can I come in?" Willow asked uncertainly after a few more moments of him staring at her.

He started, stepping out of the way. "Yeah, come in, yeah."

She hurried past him and immediately turned on her heel to face him, hesitating when he closed the door and turned to face her.

"I-I wasn't expecting you to…come here…again," he said slowly, still eyeing her.

"Yeah, well…um, I just wanted to talk to you about…something," Willow replied, slowly gathering her courage.

She stared at the floor for a moment, fiddling with her sleeves. Her stomach twisted with fear and she struggled with her breaths for a moment before lifting her head to meet his eyes.

"Where have you been?" she demanded, startling both of them.

Spike swallowed. "Um…I was just…you know, around. I didn't think you'd want to see me, after…."

"Well, I did want to see you!" she said indignantly.

"You did?" His roguish grin started to gain some power.

"Yeah, and that's what I wanted to talk to you about," Willow said firmly, pausing as she once again gathered herself. "I…I think that we should go out! Like on a date. A-as girlfriend and boyfriend."

Spike took a couple confident steps forward. "Oh, do you?"

She nodded hesitantly. "Yeah. Yes, I do."

He flashed a smirk at her, reaching up and cupping her cheek gently, his thumb smoothing over her soft skin as he bent down to press the gentlest of kisses to her lips. She closed her eyes and nearly smiled into the kiss, reaching for more as he lifted his head again.

"Well, so do I," he replied softly, nudging his nose gently against hers.

Willow smiled, letting out a quick breath. "Okay."

"All right. How about…seven tomorrow night? I'll pick you up," he told her, bending to press another kiss to her lips.

She pouted when he pulled away again. "Sounds good to me."

Spike grinned down at her and bestowed another soft, but brief, kiss on her. Willow frowned at his persistent lack of kissing.

"What is it, luv?" he asked.

"Well, we're never going to get anywhere if you keep not kissing me," she explained, pouting.

Spike laughed, nodding. "All right, I think I can fix that."

On that note, Spike reached forward and once again captured her lips, a bit more forcefully this time. His other hand came up to her waist, pulling her closer. She brought her arms up around his neck, relaxing into the kiss and, for the first time in months, feeling perfectly happy.


End file.
